As Logan flipped the next pancake, he glanced into the living room where Teagan slept peacefully on the couch. One shapely leg lay on top of the sheet exposing her curves from her ankles all the way up to her rounded hip. She rolled onto her side, revealing one of the nicest asses he’d seen in years. As his cock started to stiffen, he chastised himself.
Teagan is a friend. A very distraught friend at the moment. Besides, she had relegated him to the friend zone last night. Let her sleep. She needs it.
A toilet flushed down the hall moments before Brann shuffled into the small dining area just off the living room. “Uncle Logan, are you cooking us breakfast?”
“Keep your voice down, please. Aunt Teagan is still asleep. Yes, I’m making pancakes.” He said in a voice so low as not to wake her up. “I think I made too many.”
Yawning, Brann slid onto a stool at the breakfast counter. “I’ll start with five.” He then looked up and added, “Please.”
“That’s better.” Logan loaded a plate and set it on the counter then pointed to the maple syrup. He turned and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator. “Do you have any idea where the glasses are?”
The boy immediately hopped off the tall seat and opened the cabinet next to the sink. “Would you like a glass, too?”
Well, the boy has manners, when he wants to use them. He looked at the contents remaining in the gallon jug. “Will Anora have milk with her breakfast?”
“Yeah. I’ll get her cup.” Brann opened the bottom drawer, which was filled with plastic plates, bowls, and covered cups. “This is Anora’s stuff. Aunt Teagan makes her get her own.” He lifted out a pink plate and a matching sippy cup. “I’ll get hers. She’s awake and will be out here in a few minutes.”
Brann sat back down and drown his pancakes in the sweet brown syrup.
The little pink whirlwind came running down the hallway. “Aunt Teagan, I smell food, like real food. Are you cooking?” She screamed at the top of her voice.
So much for letting Teagan sleep in.
“No, Uncle Logan is.” Brann held out her plate. “Just one for her. You’ll be lucky if she eats even that much.” He cut through all five pancakes on his plate and stuffed the gooey mess into his mouth.
“Here you go, Anora.” Logan set the plate on the breakfast bar.
She crawled onto a stool and looked at the single pancake on her plate. Big blue eyes then looked up at him, expectantly. She glanced down at the perfectly cooked pancake before returning her gaze to Logan’s.
“Would you like me to pour the maple syrup on it?” He picked up the small jug and held it over her breakfast.
“Yes, please.” Her voice was so quiet, especially compared to a moment ago.
He poured a circle in the middle. “Is that enough?”
The girl stared at her food. “What’s maple syrup?”
Oh, fuck. Before Logan could answer, Brann took his sister’s finger and stuck it into the pool of thick brown liquid.
“Taste it. You’re going to love this.” The boy moved his sister’s hand to her mouth. “Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.
She did as she was told, and he swiped her finger over her tongue. Her bright blue eyes went huge. “It tastes like honey,” she said with amazement.
“Yeah, kinda, but better.” Brann took another large bite.
Anora sat there with her hands in her lap, just staring at her plate.
I’m such an idiot when it comes to kids. She needed silverware. Brann had gotten some for himself but hadn’t bothered getting any for his sister. Logan placed a knife and fork next to her plate.
The precious little girl with mussed up bed hair looked at the silverware as though they were going to bite her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked. Fuck. He’d fucked up something else and had no idea.
“I’m too little to use a knife,” she announced.
Logan tried to remember what age he’d been when he started using a knife. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t carried at least a foldable pocketknife.
Brann leaned over and with the side of his fork, he started to cut her pancake into pieces.
Logan grabbed a knife. “I’ll do that. You finish your pancakes let me know if you want more.” He looked at Anora and cut each piece in half again. Damn. She was tiny. Logan was used to looking at full-grown men across the table.
“Why is Aunt Teagan sleeping on the couch?” Anora asked between bites.
“I’m too tall to fit on the couch so Teagan insisted that I sleep in her bed.” Logan had always believed that honesty was the best policy. He took a sip of his coffee that was now lukewarm.
“Why didn’t she sleep in the bed with you? Is she mad at you?” Her little blonde eyebrows pinched together. “You should say you’re sorry. Then she’d come back and sleep in the bed with you.”
Logan swallowed hard before coffee went shooting through his nose. He wondered how many times the child had witnessed that scenario.
Teagan swung her legs over the side of the couch and stretched her arms over her head.
Holy, fuck. Teagan had a belly button piercing. Light reflected off the stone attached to her navel, throwing rainbows of color just above her flat stomach. He wondered if she had more piercings and if so, where. Or a tattoo.
He had never gotten a tattoo. When he’d first qualified for Force Recon, the predecessor to the Raiders, any identifying marks, like tattoos, were highly discouraged.
“Sweetie, Uncle Logan and I aren’t married so we don’t sleep in the same bed.” Teagan stood up and squinted at him. “Please tell me you brewed an entire pot of coffee.”
“I did.” It had been a short night and was going to be a long day. He was going to need the additional caffeine. Obviously, Teagan would also.
“Good. Then I won’t have to kill you.” She padded barefoot over to the coffee pot. Reaching into the cabinet above, she extracted the biggest cup he’d ever seen. It was shaped like the coffee cup, but the size of a large soup bowl. When she filled it nearly to the brim, he was resigned to making another pot.
“Who wants more pancakes?” Logan asked all three of them when their plates were empty.
Ten minutes later, tummies full, the children wandered back to their bedrooms to change their clothes.
Teagan had finished her first cup and was on her second when someone knocked on the door.
He slid her a glance. This was it. Logan had no idea what to expect. He should have looked up information on his phone last night. It wasn’t as though he slept much knowing Teagan was on the couch and he was in her bed. It smelled of her. Every time he rolled over, her pillow wafted her scent. It had been torture. Usually if he smelled a woman in the bed and couldn’t sleep, he would roll over and slide into her, expending his excess energy until they were both exhausted. But he’d been alone in the bed.
Teagan took a deep breath and hopped off her stool. The torment continued. Her breasts rising and growing as she inhaled was bad enough, but he could see her soft nipples through the silky little peach colored top and the shorts just barely covered the bottom of her perfect derrière.
“Teagan, you might want to reconsider answering the door.” He ran his gaze over her toned body. “I’m enjoying your pajamas, but I don’t think you want the woman from social services to see that much of you. She would definitely get the wrong impression.”
She glanced down at the skimpy night clothes. “Fuck.” Her eyes grew leery. It was as though she had just awakened to a nightmare, remembering why the woman was coming. Darting toward her bedroom, she called, “Logan, can you—”
“I’ve got it.” He strode to the door and looked through the peephole. Ms. Cook stood next to detective dickhead. Both were once again dressed conservatively in navy blue suits.
Why the hell is he here?
Before Detective Russo could knock, Logan opened the door. He stepped out into the hall and left the door open a crack behind him.
“We haven’t said anything to the children.” Logan kept his good ear toward the opening, listening for the children. “All they know is that they had a sleepover with Aunt Teagan, and Uncle Logan made them breakfast. They’re in their room changing out of their pajamas.”
The door started to open, and he saw Teagan out of the corner of his eye.
She looked them up and down warily as she stepped into the hall. “I’m Teagan Williams, Anora and Brann’s godmother. Thank you for agreeing to tell…” She swallowed hard. “Help the children learn about their…” She bravely fought back the tears. “About Marsha.”
Logan just wanted to pull her to him and hold her as she once again cried. When she didn’t move any closer, he took that as a sign and kept his hands to himself.
“Detective Connor Russo. Can we move this inside?” He reached up and shoved the door open, letting himself in.
“Yes, certainly.” Teagan showed them into the living room. “Would anyone care for coffee?”
“No, thank you. This is not a social visit. Could you please ask the children to come in here?” As an afterthought, she added, “Melissa Cook, from Fairfax County Department of Family Services.”
Teagan blanched.
Logan was afraid she was going to pass out. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get the kids.” Without waiting for consent, he walked down the hall to their bedroom.
Good. They were dressed for the day. “Brann, Anora, there’s someone here to see you.” He tried desperately to school his face but when his gaze met Brann’s, he couldn’t hold back the sorrow in his eyes.
“Who is it?” The boy asked quietly.
“Come on,” he held out his hand. Brann immediately slid his hand into Logan’s. He reached down and picked up Anora, planting her on his hip. The little girl wound her tiny arms around his neck. When he reached the living room, he sat in the empty chair pulling her onto his lap. Brann chose to stand beside the chair, never letting go of Logan’s hand.
“I’m Ms. Cook and you must be Brann and Anora.” She smiled pleasantly and spoke to them in a soft voice.
Neither child said anything, simply nodded.
“I’m afraid I have some very bad news for you.” She patted the seat next to her. “Would you like to come and sit next to me?”
“No,” Brann said forcefully.
“I want Aunt Teagan.” Anora leaped down and dashed across the living room, diving into Teagan’s lap.
Logan could feel the young boy shaking so he pulled him around and parked him on his knee. “I’m here for you.”
“Why don’t you bring the children over here so they could sit next to me on the couch?” Ms. Cook suggested.
“They’re fine right where they are.” Teagan’s voice was stern. Anora had curled up into a small ball, peeking over her knees at the official-looking woman.
“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but your mother passed away last night.”
“No! No!” Brann screamed. “You’re a liar.” He looked around to face Logan. “Tell her, Uncle Logan. Mom’s at home. She had to throw out Dad’s clothes yesterday.” Tears had started to streak down his face. “Dad’s dead. Not Mom. It’s not true.”
Logan had never felt so helpless in his life. He pulled Brann to his chest and simply held him. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry.”
Across the room, Teagan was crying.
Anora twisted and stuck her face two inches from Teagan’s. “What does that mean? Did Mommy have to go someplace? Like a hospital? Is she hurt?”
“No, sweetie, it means that your mommy is gone.” Teagan’s voice broke. “She’s in heaven now.”
Anora looked relieved. “Oh, she went to visit Daddy. When is she coming back?”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. Your mommy isn’t coming back.” Teagan struggled to tell the child between her own sobs.
Tears began to flow from Anora’s eyes. “Ever?”
Teagan simply shook her head side to side. “No, sweetie. She can’t come back. But she’ll always be right here in your heart.” Teagan laid her fingertips in the middle of Anora’s chest.
“Let go of me.” Brann wiggled out of Logan’s embrace and darted across the room. When he held out his arms to his sister, she instantly went to him. They slumped to the floor together.
“Mom’s dead. Just like Dad.” He cut straight to the point. “It’s just you and me now.”
Teagan slid next to them. “Oh, no. You’re not alone.” She embraced both children in her hug. “I’m here for you.”
Logan shoved out of his chair and joined them. “I am, too.” As he wrapped his arms around all three, he’d never felt as protective, and helpless, at the same time. He wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to do it, but he would take care of these two wonderful children the rest of their lives. They had suffered enough grief and sorrow in one week to last a lifetime.
He vowed to bring them joy and happiness forever. He was their godfather. He needed to step up and figure out a way to keep these children together and safe.
“Ms. Cook and I need to ask the children a few questions.” Detective Russo pushed off the far wall where he had been leaning, practically lurking in the shadows.
Teagan stood with Anora in her arms and sat back down on the chair. “What kind of questions?”
Logan took that as his cue. Throwing an arm around Brann’s shoulders, they walked back to the seat they’d occupied before.
“Bradley, did your mother seemed depressed lately?” Detective Russo asked.
Brann stiffened. “I’m not Bradley. He’s my older brother. Half-brother. He’s at West Point. If you want to ask him questions, you’ll have to go there. I’m Brann.” The boy leaned back against Logan and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. Logan had never been so proud in his life. The kid had guts to talk back to a police detective, correcting him on his assumption.
“Okay, Brann. Was your mother sad lately?” The idiot repeated the question.
Brann gave him a can-you-be-that-stupid look. “Yes, she was sad. My dad got murdered.” His voice broke on the last word. “We had the funeral ” When tears began to fall again, Brann turned his face into Logan’s chest.
“Brann,” Teagan called from across the room. “Would you please go to your bedroom and grab the box of tissues off your nightstand?” When the boy didn’t move, she added, “Brann, I need to blow my nose, but I don’t want to leave the room.”
“Okay,” he said between sniffs. He spun around, and trotted toward the hall, head down, not looking at anyone.
“Sweetie, would you help your brother find the tissues, please?” Teagan stood and Anora chased her brother out of the room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Teagan punched her balled fists onto her rounded hips and got into the detective’s face. “You’re not allowed to question children without a parent present. Since I’m their godmother, I guess that makes me the closest thing to a parent, and as such, I’m telling you to get the fuck out of my house. You are not allowed to talk to either of these children.”
When the detective took a step toward Teagan, Logan shot out of his chair to stand beside her.
“First of all, those two children are now orphans, and technically wards of the state.” He pointed to Ms. Cook who stood. “She now represents the children in the eyes of the Commonwealth of Virginia, so I certainly can question them.”
“As their godparents, we are designated to take care of them in the absence of their parents,” Teagan volleyed back.
“Ms. Williams,” Ms. Cook said with derision. “This is the twenty first century. In the United States we have a separation of church and state. Without anything in writing, we have nothing but your word that Mrs. Davis wanted you to care for the children. We spoke this morning with her parents, who didn’t feel capable of raising the children, given their advanced age. Since you have no blood ties to any of them, we have to look at all resources available to us.”
“Marsha made me promise if anything ever happened to her, that I would take care of Brann and Anora.” As though she had just thought of something, her whole face brightened. “We talked about this just last week. She was going to write it into her will.”
“Are her parents the executor of her will?” Logan asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Teagan admitted. “I could call her attorney and ask.”
“Ms. Williams, if you’re not specifically mentioned in the will as the designated caretaker of the children, I’m not sure if we will be able to assign them to you.” Ms. Cook continued. “What is your marital status?”
Fuck. Logan knew where this was headed.
The children could end up in an orphanage or foster care.
Separated.
Alone.
And there was nothing he and Teagan could do about it.
Fuck!